Eden
by JayBee-Bug
Summary: Trapped on an alien world and forced to do grueling slave labor-- what’s SG-1 to do? Thank God for Free Days. (JD slash; first-time)
1. Chapter One

**Title**: Eden

**Author**: JayBee-Bug

**Rating**: R (mild language and adult situations)

**Feedback:** Welcomed and worshipped. Send em' to: jaybee_bug@yahoo.com

**Summary**: Trapped on an alien world and forced to do grueling slave labor-- what's SG-1 to do? Thank God for Free Days. (J/D slash; first-time)

**Warnings**: SLASH; If you don't like the idea of Jack/Daniel, read at your own risk. Mention of things such as the Adam and Eve story is just for fun, not meant to annoy/insult anyone. 

**Disclaimer**: Don't own em'/don't profit off em'/can't keep em'.

**Distribution**: Yes, but please keep my original headers attached, and e-mail me if you can. :o)

**A/N:** Thanks to Rebecca for betaing. ^^

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Free Day. Daniel had thought it would never come again. He knew it had only been a month since his last Free Day, but it had felt more like a year. He sighed blissfully as he hiked beside Jack deeper into the exotic forest, towards their secret bathing spot. They had nicknamed it 'Eden', and many a workday was made much easier by recalling every beautiful detail of Eden and exactly how the next Free Day was going to be spent. Now that they were finally headed towards their mythical oasis again, Daniel felt a fresh, giddy bounce in his step. It was finally time. 

Naturally, the boys took every precaution known to man to ensure they would not be followed. The path they took there was quite complex, with several turn-around points. In reality the spot was only a five mile hike, but their journey made it more like ten miles. It was worth every step, though. Past a few small gullies and tucked behind a couple slopes, hidden in a mesh of trees, was their secret access point to the River. The dry, alien forest was much like an oak forest on good old Terra Firma, although most of the time the trees were fairly thin. The team only knew of one river that passed through this continent, as the planet was far more land than water. Carefully climbing down the steep grade, using rocks jutting out the hillside as stepping-stones, the two of them navigated with practiced precision to the bottom of the thick mat of oak-like trees, and ducked below the branches to slip quickly in, like thieves stealing off to their hideout. 

Daniel let loose another appreciative murble of anticipation as they stood in their quiet little haven. Jack turned to him, grinning. 

"Amen to that," he agreed heartily. 

"God, Jack, it's felt like forever."

He held up a warning finger, 

"Ah-ah. Remember what we agreed."

Daniel gave a tight-lipped smile and made a zippering-gesture. Jack nodded in approval. No more talking about work, just one day of mindless pleasure. 

In the beginning, the team was uncertain how they'd be spending their first Free Day. Teal'c wanted to explore the area surrounding the Labor Fields as much as possible, feeling it would serve as a tactical advantage. Daniel thought it was a good idea but was also curious about how the others spent the day, and felt inclined to tail one of the larger groups and find out. Sam thought it might be a good opportunity to make some crucial connections, gleaning information from the relaxing laborers and working her way up in the social circles. All were very practical ideas, and the most strategic thing to do was have everyone split up and go their separate ways. That's more or less what they ended up doing. For a while Jack vacillated, not sure who he wanted to go with. He was about to decide he'd join Teal'c on the perimeter check but then Daniel mentioned he overheard one of the groups discussing a river and that settled it. 

Now every Free Day since then had followed a similar pattern. Teal'c had discovered, in his explorations, an actual small cave, several miles out into the woods. By barely fitting inside and rolling a stone over the opening, he had access to the only purely private area on the planet, and was able to go into a deeper Kel'nor'reem once a month. During the short sleeping periods the laborers got each night, he went into a much shallower Kel'nor'reem, and he found his monthly moments of solitude in the cave to be crucial to his continued health. Sam had made impressive success with worming her way into the social structure, and her increased stance on the hierarchy proved to work to their advantage time and again. As for Jack and Daniel . . . 

They thought they'd never find an adequate spot the first Free Day they tailed the huge group of rowdy, smelly laborers. Bathing at the River was extremely popular and the workers had no reservations about stripping down naked and diving into the crowded River. Everyone cleaned their clothing as well and the riverside was so crowded, Jack and Daniel turned up their noses at it and kept moving along the river, looking for a more secluded spot. They weren't desperate enough yet, weren't work-worn enough yet to join their wild neighbors. It somehow seemed like they'd be giving in completely to do so and admitting they were completely trained and tamed by their Overseers. There was no way, as Jack had put it. They had nine more months on their debt, and Hammond would rescue them before then. Or they'd find a way to escape. Either way, they still clung to what little pride they had left. 

More than half of their first Free Day was over with when they discovered Eden. But its discovery was like a miracle. The two of them had traveled progressively upstream, on the logical principle that they'd want to be upriver from the dirty bathers and be the first ones to access the clean water. Laborers crowded the riverside the whole way, only thinning out slightly as they went along. The secret of Eden was that it wasn't actually on the main vein of the River. It was a divergence that went off for a while before rejoining the main river path. They stumbled upon it by sheer dumb luck, because they had gotten lost from wandering too far from the River. Their surprise and joy was quite tangible when they found the small divergence hidden in the deep tree grove. 

Jack had just stripped right then and there and did a cannon-ball into the private watering hole. Daniel had been more reluctant at first, clinging to his modesty about public bathing. He fussed about the water's edge for a while and Jack heckled him to get it over with. 

"Now's not the time for finesse, Danny. Get in."

"I know, Jack, I'm just, I, ah-- I think maybe I'll walk a bit more."

After what felt like ten minutes of fussing, Jack finally exploded, 

"F'cryin' out loud, Daniel, nobody else is here! Now you got two options, get your naked ass in here, or I'll drag you in myself!"

Daniel had relinquished after that, although quite grudgingly. Once he entered the ice-cold, clear water, though, his apprehensions evaporated fairly quickly. Jack had to get him into a full-fledged water splashing fight before he totally wound down, though. He had acted extremely annoyed at first and told Jack to cut it out, but Jack was relentless. He finally angrily defended himself, looking genuinely pissed off, but Jack just kept fighting back, grinning. The moron's grin was infectious and all the tension that Daniel had been carrying around with him finally appeared to be cut loose in that river. After they exhausted themselves with their boisterous aerobics, they cleaned their clothes in the river and allowed themselves the luxury of air-drying. 

All remnants of shyness were entirely absent now as the two men shed their native clothing with a casual abandon. Jack threw himself at the river with a vengeance, a massive splash echoing through the trees, while Daniel preferred to wade in with a graceful, delicate slowness, savoring each increment of cool, clean water submersing his body. 

The time spent in the Labor Fields had changed them. It was a trying experience for everyone of SG-1, especially the first few weeks when stress and frustration was running high and both escape and rescue from their predicament seemed a bleak prospect. They were disheartened and refused to resign themselves to the full Ten Month Debt the team had apparently gotten themselves into. But then, despite themselves, they had adjusted. Worked themselves into a rhythm. There was no doubt the experience had changed all of them. 

That change was also clearly evident just by looking at them. They now had the same clothing of all the other laborers, although Sam's connections had gotten them fairly finely crafted clothing by comparison. Those clothes now lay spread half-hazardly over the large, flat stones on the river's edge. As Daniel slipped all the way into the water, enjoying the mild tug on his body the current was producing, he mused about how both his and Jack's appearances had transformed over the past three months. They had already been in good shape before the disastrous mission to P3X-4Y1, of course. But three months of near nonstop labor in the Fields, sweating as the sun beat down on their backs, chipping away at dry, dusty dirt, and walking two miles from the Fields back to communal camp each day certainly changed a person. Their bodies were now much leaner, the type of lankiness that wasn't quite unhealthy looking--yet. Some of the laborers there were quite pitiful to behold, like scrawny chickens. Those were the ones who had more than Sixteen Months under their belts. SG-1 would not be staying quite that long, if all went according to plan. Sam's social connections and their leftover MREs had managed to supply them with more than sufficient food. The regular workers were fed a fair supply, so things weren't_ too_ stingy around here-- but time did take its toll, on everyone. 

Both men were deeply bronzed, nearly from head to toe. P3X-4Y1's sun stimulated the tanning response in Tauri skin very easily. Fortunately it was somewhat less damaging than Earth's own sun, emitting less rays in the UV spectrum.  "It's much more likely these people die from exhaustion, not cancer," Sam had concluded cheerily. Jack had just rolled his eyes at that. Their hair was also getting pretty scruffy, and trying to keep stubble down was a constant task-- the laborers possessed crude cutting tools but they were far from efficient.  

"Hey," Jack murmured, giving Daniel a curious look. The archeologist blinked out of his daze and realized he had been watching Jack for a while when he drifted off into thought. 

"What're you lookin' at?"

He said it with convincing aggression, but the small smile tugging at his lips belayed the humor behind it, and his dark eyes sparkled from the reflection of the river. 

"I was just thinking how much different we look now."

His brow quirked at that, as if not understanding, and Daniel made a small gesture to the both of them. 

"You know, our physique."

"Ooh. Yeah, you noticed that, huh?"

Jack flexed his own muscles experimentally, scrutinizing the improvement. 

"Guess there's a few advantages to this fun ol' vacation of ours," he mused wryly. 

"It's not just us. Sam's starting to look like a bodybuilder, I swear. And if it's even possible, Teal'c's gotten even . . . heavier."

Jack shook his head amusedly, 

"I can't wait to see the look on Hammond's face when we march through the gate. He'll probably want to send every new SG team here for training."

They both laughed at that, and spent some time diving underwater and exploring the bottom of the river. After wearing themselves out, they floated lazily along the top of the water, staring straight up at the blue sky in silence, soaking in the pure peacefulness. The sensation of weightlessness was intoxicating, and an extremely welcome change of pace from the near constant motion and strain from the Labor Fields. It was such a sudden, delicious change, and they had been looking forward to it for so long, that Daniel quivered with the raw power of the sensation. A word filtered through his peaceful head, one that he shaped quietly in his mouth and decided fit the moment with perfect precision. Rapture. Floating here in their Eden was simply . . . rapture. 

"Daniel?" 

Jack's voice floated above his head from somewhere nearby, sounding slightly garbled with the river water dipping in and out of his ears. Daniel shivered as he heard it. Jack's voice always seemed to drop an entire octave when he was utterly relaxed. The name was heavy and gravely. 

"Hmm?"

Daniel replied in a voice that sounded nearly as sedated as Jack's. The other man took his time in responding again, speaking with a slow dreaminess. 

"If you look completely up . . . just see nothing but the sky. It looks just like home."

Once his words had registered in Daniel's brain, he noted it was true. The blue sky could just have easily been Earth. For all he knew, at the moment, it was. 

"When you see nothing else, it's so easy to just pretend . . ." Jack said, drifting off, his last word tapering off into a satisfied rumble. Daniel didn't say anything in reply, but he mumbled in happy agreement. 

Later on, they climbed their favorite tree to string out their lanky, tanned bodies to air-dry in the sun. The second Free Day SG-1 had experienced on P3X-4Y1, Jack had declared his plans during dinner the night before. 

"I'm going to spend the entire day tomorrow, all twenty-four precious hours, stark raving naked."

Remembering their trip last time to the secret bathing spot, Daniel had quickly and enthusiastically agreed. Getting a very raised eyebrow from Teal'c and that funny sort of cross-eyed-half-smile thing Sam did, and then a slightly suggestive grin from Jack, he realized they hadn't yet told the rest of the team much about their first Free Day. Clearing his throat and feeling his face heat up, Daniel stiltedly explained to Sam and Teal'c about the riverside. 

That last time they ended up compromising, putting their boxers back on when they climbed the tree. They were a bit worried about it being . . . uncomfortable to try and attempt in the total nude. Today, on their third Free Day, they dared to bare it all, feeling their hides had probably become thick enough by now with all their damn work to be able to handle the tree-climbing. Daniel was pleasantly surprised to find their guess turned out to be correct. They both found comfortable niches in the broad, thick branches of the alien tree, and tucked themselves in very prone, but comfortable positions. And shut their eyes as they let the sun work its magic on their skin. For most of the month, they cursed the sun, a cruel enemy to them and their labor. But for one day, it was their ally, after a freezing and extended dip in the river, to sunbathe in its healing warmth. Suspended in the air above ground, eyes closed, Daniel felt strangely whole, complete up here. As if he had been missing something all month and could only get it here. 

The bark was smooth, incredibly smooth, like the wood was polished. The leaves were light green and oddly shaped, triangular and definitely alien, and rustled gently in the breeze. Extending an elegant, sculpted arm, Daniel reached out and wrapped his fingers around a bright red globe suspended in the space in front of him, and slowly pulled it off the tree. It gave way with a quick snap and he reveled over his prize, a round, bright red fruit. They had discovered this was a fruit tree the last time they were here. Oddly, the fruit was remarkably similar to a pomegranate, so similar that Daniel would have sworn it was the same exact thing, if not for the strangely shaped leaves. 

Daniel let his nails sink into the soft outer-skin, breathing in its scent. Fresh fruit certainly was a rare commodity on this planet, one to be savored by every morsel. He bit into the fruit and began to peel away at it, letting chunks of the outer pulp drop to the ground below. Deep red juice began to seep through the marks he was making, and dribbled down his fingers as he freed the edible fruit within. He reached the cache of bright red seeds and dug out a few of them, examining them with fascination in the sunlight. He remembered chewing on pomegranate seeds until he was sick to his stomach as a boy, never tiring of their bittersweet flavor. He moistened his lips, inhaling the scent, and then leaned his head back against the tree, dropping the red seeds into his mouth. Pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth, he savored the feeling of the tender morsels popping and releasing their juice. 

After draining the seeds of every last drop of juice he casually spit them out over his shoulder, watching them drop below with a silly grin. Then he dug into the fruit again, bringing out a messy handful of maroon, and leaning back again to try and drop all of them into his mouth at once. He only half-succeeded, the rest slipping by and dropping all over his naked body, leaving trails of red juice in their wake. He gave a slight jerk of surprise as the cold seeds hit his skin, and then relaxed back into his perch, chewing with slow satisfaction. His eyes slipped shut as his throat bobbed, swallowing the fresh nectar. 

Something made him open his eyes then and slowly cast his vision downward. As he caught sight of Jack he realized what had caught his attention-- the feeling of being watched. He froze in mid-chew as his eyes found Jack's face. The older man was lounging a few branches below, in clear sight. He obviously had been watching Daniel for some time, and it was the look in his eyes that made Daniel stop cold. His expression was fairly neutral, but he had a positively predatory gleam in his darkened eyes. There was no mistaking it. Usually Daniel had the hardest time reading any of Jack's expressions or moods. He figured it was all that damn Black Ops training that did it. But there Jack was, unabashedly eyeing him up like he was a pomegranate himself, and he couldn't suppress a shiver as the man's gaze raked across his body and met with his own eyes. He swallowed, biting down hard on the seeds still in his mouth. He looked so . . . hungry. 

"Jack," Daniel tried, although his name came out sounding like a croak. He coughed and spat out the seeds and tried again. 

"Can I help you?"

He felt pretty proud of how normal that came out. There was a moment where it was obvious Jack had no idea what Daniel just said. He blinked, and the look of hunger was gone, replaced with confusion. 

"What?"

Daniel had to smile a little at the clueless response, but now he was second-guessing what he had seen. He ventured, 

"Enjoying the view?"

When that registered, the older man slowly smiled. 

"For some odd reason I was remembering those Greek statues I've seen pictures of."

In his subdued state, it also took Daniel a moment to process that, and when he did, he wasn't sure whether to blush furiously or laugh. The look Jack was giving him was sort of a wolfish smile, looking half-sarcastic and half-serious. Daniel's laughter sounded decidedly nervous, but Jack laughed along with him. When they finally petered out, breathing heavy from the simple effort, Daniel realized it didn't really seem to clear the air of tension. Before he could change his mind, he made himself ask, 

"What was that?"

"What was what?" Jack replied innocently, blinking up at him. 

Normally he'd find his ambivalent answers infuriating, but for some reason they were terribly amusing right now. He popped a few seeds in his mouth, and turned to spit them out at Jack. The man yelped as they just barely missed him. 

"Watch it, Daniel, you're gonna make me fall outta the tree!"

"That wouldn't bother me too much," he answered blandly, and shot again, this time with more precision. 

"It will when I crack my head open on the-- _hey_, cut it out!"

After pelting Jack with soggy seeds until he begged for a truce, they had somehow gotten into an involved conversation about all the new skills they were picking up on this planet, and how they could be put to good use back at home. They never once stopped to question the fact that they'd get home. It was something they had just come to know as true after the first couple of weeks. They never doubted since then, and kept each other from ever thinking otherwise. 

When talk fell quiet they resigned themselves to feasting on every fruit within their reach, the plan being to eat until they couldn't walk and then sleep it off here until morning. Fortunately their Overseers weren't strict on one thing and one thing alone-- Free Days, and they allowed people to be a bit late when drifting back to communal camp. 

Daniel was working on-- what?-- his fifth or sixth fruit, when a memory floated through his mind. 

"Several cultures, including the Egyptians, have considered the pomegranate an aphrodisiac," he remembered out loud. Jack looked up at him, his face buried in a half-eaten fruit. And stared. 

"What?" Daniel flinched under his friend's stare, feeling a bit self-conscious. 

A drip of red slowly dropped off Jack's nose. 

"Are you trying to suggest something here?" 

Daniel found himself smiling, even though the stare was still making him uncomfortable. 

"Just thinking out loud."

Jack got an amused look and went back to his sloppy style of fruit-eating, which entailed just biting the pomegranate like an apple, chewing up the mouthful of seeds and spitting them out in a huge wad. 

"So if I've had, like, ten of these . . ." Jack said, pausing to do a mental count, 

". . . what's that mean?"

Daniel raised his brows and blinked, unsure if that was rhetorical.  "Ah . . ."

"That I should be very, very horny? "

"I guess. It's just a-a myth, they're not always completely accurate."

Jack stopped to look at his pomegranate seriously. He muttered, 

"Well it certainly would explain a few things."

Daniel frowned when he didn't say anything more after that, just went back to eating. 

"Uh. Like what?"

Jack looked up again. 

"Hm? "

"You, uh, said-- explain what?"

Jack looked momentarily surprised, as if he hadn't realized he had spoken out loud. 

"Oh. I dunno. Just thinking out loud."

_Ten or Twelve Pomegranates Later .  .  . _

Daniel groaned as he leaned back further in his perch. 

"I second that," Jack mumbled from below. 

"I don't think I'll be able to move for a week."

Jack stretched luxuriously on his back, craning his neck to see green leaves. 

"Two weeks tops. We'll get there eventually."

Giddy laughter--God, where they giggling? Grown men, reduced to this? Shameful, really. At the back of his mind somewhere, Daniel wondered if the alien pomegranates really did have some sort of drug-like chemicals in them. 

"I feel like I've taken all leave of my senses," he drawled happily, and Jack mumbled thickly to agree. 

"Total looney-bins."

The breeze tickled his skin, and Daniel sighed in rich contentment, feeling like a babe in a cradle, drunk on the nectar of mother Earth, naked, clean, quiet, and sleepy. And clearly delirious, as his mind seemed to be waxing poetic. 

"I feel like Adam," he revised in a moment of inspiration, and Jack laughed at that, clearly liking that one. 

"Adam in the garden of Eden?"

"Yeah, " Daniel agreed, and they giggled at the idea. 

"But what about me? I'm not playing no Eve," Jack protested lazily. Daniel shook his head. 

"It's just Adam and Adam."

The Colonel wore a confused frown, trying to wrap his brain around that. 

"How would that work?"

Daniel gave a snort and pushed a fruit husk off his branch with a foot, letting it drop below, 

"You tell me."

Jack grinned in response and mulled that one over. He spoke in a booming voice as if reciting famous poetry, 

"Adam and Adam, sitting in a tree. Drunk on the fruit of immortality. What eternal hand or eye could frame thy handsome symmetry?"

Daniel laughed wheezily at that, 

"Right, I think you just plagiarized three different things there, but you got the idea."

"Paaaaradise," Jack purred. Daniel agreed,

"Lappin' up the luxuries of paradise."

Jack nodded vigorously and rhapsodized,

"The perfect existence. Nothing to distract them from the essentials of life."

"But what _are_ the essentials of life . . . ?" Daniel wondered philosophically. Jack replied automatically, 

"Eat, drink, sleep, make love, repeat."

Daniel smiled loopily, 

"There's a certain eloquence to that simplicity."

"You're damn right there is."

"We should do a-- a, oh, hang on," Daniel trailed off, watching the fruit he reached for bounce off a branch and fall to the ground. He twisted around a bit, trying to see if there were any more in reach at all. They had done a fairly good job cleaning out the tree's supply, though. 

"Yo, " Jack warned shortly before tossing one of the fruits directly up. Daniel promptly snatched it out of the air in front of him. 

"Thanks. Ok, here we go. A toast!"

"Here, here!" Jack raised a mostly-eaten fruit. Daniel raised his, trying not to slip too much on his branch. 

"To all the missions gone horribly wrong."

"That would be every one of them, you realize."

"To endentured-slave-based economies!"

"Gotta love em'! "

"To Free Day!"

"God bless em'!" Jack cheered, wobbling dangerously on his perch. 

"To Jack's five axioms of life!"

"Hell yes!"

"To--"

"Ah, wait, wait, I got one, hold on," Jack said, steadying himself on the tree, before bellowing at the top of his lungs, 

"Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow I may die!"

~~~~~~~~~~


	2. Chapter Two

The dust tasted drier than all the months he had spent on Abydos, and the sun burned twice as cruelly. 

He didn't find it so hard to understand now, in this position, why the ancient Egyptians had so deeply revered and feared their sun God. The sun was like a cruel master, whose cycles set and governed every moment of their days. Every waking hour, every motion, was weighted down by the heat, invisible shackles laid across the shoulders of each worker. 

There was a reason the Fields had no fences, no boundaries to keep the slaves from escaping. 

They didn't need any. The sun was enough to keep them in place. 

Muscle and machine worked in turn, the slow, grinding rhythm of the slaves like a well-known dance, a ritual with a long-forgotten purpose. Their movements were jerky and mechanical, methodically predictable. Picks swung, carts pushed along their path, shovels pitched, backs bent. The dust churned in their wake, bathing them in their toil, and hung in the air like the layers in a cake. 

The archeologist understood the meaning of digging. He grew up watching his parents perform the art like an act of love. Their attention to detail was not painstaking, but beloved, every speck of dirt preciously brushed away, exposing the beautiful hidden truths within. It is with ultimate patience that archeologists perform their labor, an unfailing passion for detail. 

Daniel knew what it was to work for weeks, months, years on a site, to breathe in the soil each day of the ground you dig. To hunch over the smallest detail and focus on that tiny pinprick in the vast stretches of broiling desert, an atmosphere that feels as if it is trying to devour your skin. He knew what it was like to be able to focus on that detail long enough for everything else to simply slip away. So that the entire world of dust and heat became a distant reality, and his mind was weightless and free, lifting him up higher and higher, until, finally, only two things remained. Him, and whatever detail currently held his attention. 

Daniel Jackson had trained his mind to do this. He also felt part of it was a natural talent. It was the singular most precious ability he possessed. It got him through school with multiple doctrines, it got him through his missions with the Stargate. And it was what was keeping him alive now. 

Daniel Jackson loved detail. 

But even he had his limitations. And even he, with patience that could outlast any of the SGC personnel, could grow weary. 

Letting his pick impale itself in the block of alien rock he had been working on, Daniel unwrapped his cloth-bound hands from the handle and stood up to his full height, gripping his aching back as he did so. His whole body was swathed with the lightweight material, as if wrapped in a cocoon-- a scarf wound all around his head and barely leaving room for his face, hands and arms wrapped in shock-absorbant gauzelike cloth, feet and ankles done up the same way, with animal-hide moccasins, and the tight-cligning suede-like shirt and pants that hugged his skin. This was actually a step up from most of the other laborers, who had on what looked like hastily-made two-piece smocks. They weren't as breathable and Daniel could at least take small comfort in the fact he no longer had to shed clothes and work bareback under the sun. 

He surveyed the long row of workers with his face twisted into the permanent squint he had developed on this planet. Rows of gleaming metal tools swung up and down like pistons in an engine, mechanically consuming the rockface. It was such an efficient machine, this slave-force. Daniel wiped his eyes with the back of a cloth-wrapped hand. Some days he really missed his glasses. They were confiscated along with their weapons and their other technology that might pose "a technological misbalance". How their Overseers figured a pair of glasses fit that charge, Daniel could only guess. He blinked back the dirt-smogged air and let his gaze follow the entire expanse of the parched landscape. The jagged rockbeds went on for miles in the Labor Fields. There was not much to see but the scattered groups of slaves, their simple tools, tracks of carts being pushed along. And, of course, their Overseer, stationed about a half-mile out on its black, stilted, three-legged contraption, which rose high above the Field like a daddy-long leg spider watching an army of ants go about their work. 

Daniel suddenly coughed, and ducked his head down, squinting his eyes shut, letting the hacking cough shake his whole body. While the alien dirt did not bother his allergies he had to wonder about the long-term effects of breathing in this much dirt. He coughed until tears drew muddy tracks down his face, holding a gauzy-hand to his mouth in an attempt to get cleaner air. 

A hand settled on his shoulder reassuringly, and he looked up to meet Jack's eyes. 

"Ok?"

Daniel nodded, coughing fit slowly abating. Dust coated Jack's face like a mask, and he was just as bundled up as Daniel was. But his eyes were still familiar. They still carried that spark that made him _Jack_, something that would always remain a constant. 

The older man gave his shoulder a squeeze and then picked up his shovel, returning to work steadily on the spot near Daniel's abandoned pick. The slight ringing-sound of metal tools making contact with rock was almost musical, a persistent percussion that shook the ground across all the Fields. 

Daniel wiped the grime off his face again and watched his companions at work not too far down the line-- Teal'c and Sam were steadily filling carts with dirt together. It was their routine to break off in pairs of twos while they worked the Fields. The Overseers kept socializing during labor hours to a bare minimum, and SG-1 wanted to lessen the chances of being broken up by them. Tomorrow he'd pair off with Sam. And then Teal'c. 

And then Jack again. 

"Looks like we hit paydirt," Jack noted gruffly, rocks and dirt sliding and crumbling to expose more of the rockface. Tiny triangular bits of gleaming orange reflected out at them. They looked like small shards of glass from a broken bottle. Daniel crouched down to inspect Jack's find. 

"Uh-huh. Looks like a good five _pordos_, at least."

Jack snorted indelicately. 

"Please, Daniel. Don't start using the language of these freaks."

He shot a glance up at his companion, who was leaning over him, putting his weight against the shovel, also examining the rockface. He answered defensively, 

"I don't know how they'd measure in pounds."

Jack shrugged, causing dust to whirl with the simple motion. 

"Let's just call it a shitload then."

Daniel smiled very slightly. 

"All right. It's a shitload."

He got up and gave a nervous glance towards the hulking piece of machinery in the distance, the gleaming, glossy spider gazing ominously towards them. 

"Better get back to it," Jack muttered quietly, and Daniel nodded slightly. They had only been separated once by their Overseer for too much fraternization, but it was enough to make them paranoid. They were more strict on frat rules than the damn SGC was. 

Both getting up picks now, the two of them got back to work. The natives called the tiny orange shards _jerra_, and although they appeared to be mineral formations, were actually biological; in fact, they were the seeds of an alien plant. SG-1 had never found out why the natives of this planet valued them so highly, but they did know they weren't used for food consumption. The seeds themselves were highly toxic. 

Laborers began to crowd around the jerra concentration, drawn to the sparkling objects, helping to till them from the ground. Jack and Daniel remained at the center, however, holding the prime spot over their discovery. Rocks and dirt crumbled; shovels passed them over to carts. 

It was during moments like these that Daniel had a hard time reconciling his memories with reality. There was simply such a stark contrast, a gaping _chasm _between now and before, that it seemed entirely impossible that the two were ever connected. Surely these thoughts and sensations Daniel possessed of a cool, airy, ethereal place on this planet were mere fantasy? Some place invented in his desperate mind, in feverish sleep, a fabrication conjured up to comfort him during his darkest moments? 

But if that were true, how could Jack possibly share his delusion? Daniel didn't know too much about psychology but wondered if it were possible to share a fantasy down to its very last details, without first discussing it. 

Not that they spoke of it very much. Lately they hadn't been doing much talking. Too lost in their own thoughts, Daniel imagined. It was a little overwhelming to consider. 

Did that last Free Day they supposedly had a week ago really happen? 

The way everyone acted would lead Daniel to believe it didn't. People walked to the Fields, worked, walked back, ate, and slept. Daniel watched the man working beside him, face etched deeply in curiosity, trying to understand.

The rocks and dirt in the Fields had an orange tinge, and Jack's clothes were dyed a deep ruddy orange, as everyone elses'. His expression was stern, brow creased and lips pursed in a hard line, eyes hooded from the bright sun, almost in a grimace. He chipped away at the alien rock with brief, firm, continuous strikes, as if he had spent his whole life doing it. Only one or two small snatches of grey-orange hair stuck out of the scarf wound about his head like a lopsided turban. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had only a week ago been backpaddling in a perfectly clear river and singing "Frere Jacques" entirely off-key. Or the man who had gotten intoxicated with Daniel in an alien fruit tree and shared some of the most open conversations they had ever had in the history of their friendship. Not to mention some of the strangest. 

_"Daniel . . . I have to be honest with you here."_

_"Yeah?"_

_Daniel bit a lower lip, half-expecting he knew what was coming. _

_"For reasons I have yet to fathom . . . I'm finding you really, really tempting right now. "_

Well, Jack was usually one to beat around the bush a couple dozen times, but occasionally it seemed he was able to get right to the point. 

_"Daniel?"_

_He jumped a little at the verbal prompt, _

_"Oh, ah, um.__ Ok. . . I, ah, sort of got that message earlier . . ."_

_"Ah. I was kind of hoping you didn't notice that . . ." Jack dropped his gaze, an embarrassed smile flashing briefly across his face. He cleared his throat and looked back up, _

_"Anyway, I thought I should say something. Because  . . ."_

_He trailed off. _

_"Because . . . ?" Daniel prompted. He watched various conflicting emotions play out across Jack's face, and he finally came out with, _

_"Because if that bothers you I probably shouldn't spend the next Free Day like this."___

_The two of them simply held eye contact for a bit. Jack's gaze drifted a little and he added, as an afterthought, _

_"Or the rest of this one."___

Daniel shivered, despite the suppressing heat, and went back to chipping away at the jerra-filled rock. To be motionless for too long got you in trouble here. 

_"It doesn't," Daniel spoke with some difficulty. _

_"It doesn't what?" Jack asked, confused. _

_"Bother me."_

_Jack blinked. _

_"Oh."_

_When they fell quiet, the only sound was the soft breeze rustling the leaves, and the river's gentle course. _

_"What's that mean?"_

_"I'm not sure," Daniel admitted. _

_Jack was very focused on a twig now, fiddling with it, needing something to do with his hands. _

_"I don't think it's just some urge to screw somebody. There're plenty of people around here doing that. Hell, you can hardly walk three feet without tripping over someone getting--"_

_"I noticed, " Daniel stated. _

_"--yeah, of course you did. What I mean is it's not hard to understand. A bunch of desperate people . . . looking for comfort or escape or whatever the Hell else . . . yadda yadda. I didn't fall asleep during _every_ psych class in highschool."_

_Jack looked up, meeting his eyes again. _

_"But damnit, Daniel.__ If I wanted that I would've turned to Carter. Not to say that I'd think it would be meaningless with her, that's . . . that's not what I mean. But she's the one that I always . . . I figured if there ever were a time to . . . in situations like the one we're in--"_

_"You thought the two of you would be driven together."_

_"Yeah," Jack agreed quietly, looking back down at his twig. _

_"But you don't feel that way?"_

_Jack shook his head. _

_"I keep wondering what's wrong with me. I mean on the one hand it's a good thing. I guess. It's . . . I guess it's just weird for me. Because for a while now I no longer seem to feel the same way about her. And I keep expecting it . . . to . . . be the same. But . . ."_

_He glanced up, _

_"I guess things change."_

_He went quiet and returned to his stick examination for some time. Daniel took all this in. He took a breath and asked, _

_"So what am I?"_

_Jack looked at him, and his expression was yet again too ambivalent for Daniel to read. _

_"Different. It's not . . ."_

_Jack looked down, with some frustration. _

_"It's not just a matter of convenience or-- some unfulfilled fantasy or whatever. If it were, I'd have plenty other more logical options."_

_Slowly, his eyes lifted back up to Daniel. _

_"I've never thought this before. About you. Not before we got here. Not . . . consciously anyway . . . so. I don't know what's going on. If this place is just getting to me or what."_

Daniel coughed and sputtered as somebody accidentally spilt their shovelful over his head. The slaves were crowding around too closely, all trying to get at the piles of loosened soil. Jack tightened his grip on his pick, holding the sharp tool in midair, giving the sloppy slave his dirtiest Colonel-glare. The slave shrunk back, followed by his comrades, and they quickly busied themselves with digging dirt a bit further away from Daniel. The archeologist shook his head and brushed the dirt off his shoulders, spitting at the foul taste of whatever alien mineral was in the dirt. 

"Thanks."

Jack said nothing, but moved to look Daniel over with a concerned eye, brushing down his gauze-wrapped head and back roughly. He muttered darkly, and Daniel could barely hear him, 

"Sloppy bastards are gonna take your arm off one of these times the way they work."

Having cleaned him off, Jack nudged his shoulder to turn him around and look over his front. 

"Ok, it's off. Come over on this side if those idiots get stupid again."

Daniel gazed at the hand gripping his shoulder, and looked up to the tense face of his friend, who still clutched his pick at his side. He looked into those stormy eyes and wondered again if his memories were real. 

_"Well what do you _think_ it is?"_

_Jack's eyes were stormy as he struggled for an explanation. _

_"I don't know. I haven't figured it out. I'm sorry, Daniel, I don't know what to say. I should probably . . . you know," He nodded, gesturing that he intended to leave. He started to unwind from his niche in the tree, looking about for the best way down. _

_"We could experiment," Daniel blurted. Jack's head snapped up. _

_"Huh?"_

_Daniel ran a tongue along the inside of his mouth, measuring his words. In that slow, deliberate way he explained things to Jack that he thought he'd find hard to comprehend, he said, _

_"When scientists try to understand something they usually set up experiments. It sounds to me if you explored the various possibilities . . ."_

_The Colonel answered gruffly, _

_"Daniel, quit yanking my chain here. What are you saying?"_

_Daniel paused, looking at Jack, and only then realized what it was he was saying. The sudden clarity made it obvious. _

_"I'm saying that I'd be willing to participate in such an experiment. With you. Because . . . for reasons I have yet to fathom . . ."_

_Jack's fingers gripped the tree branch he was perched on, and his jaw tightened. _

_"I'm pretty sure I'm feeling the same way."_

"You all right?" Jack's voice came more gently. His expression was softened somewhat, as if sensing Daniel's deep thoughts. 

"Yeah."

Jack studied Daniel's face, in a way Daniel had been doing himself. He expected Jack to nod and get back to work. Instead, Jack's orange-dusted face broke into a sudden, affectionate smile. He ruffled Daniel's dirty, cloth-wrapped hair fondly. 

"Your eyes are really blue, Daniel."

Daniel raised his brows at the unexpected reaction. Jack patted the back of his neck, 

"Damn sky blue."

Lifting the pick back up, he promptly returned to work. Daniel stood watching a moment. 

And then he dared to smile a little. 

~~~~~~~~~~__


	3. Chapter Three

The cup was lightweight, made of cheap metal, like a soup can. It clearly had been dented and banged back into place many times. It rested on the uneven surface of the crude wooden table, and Daniel gazed down into it. It was half-full of gritty water, small orange dirt particles sunk at the bottom like silt. 

"_Daniel."_

He looked up, realizing somebody had been repeating his name. Sitting across from him, Sam watched expectantly. 

"I'm sorry, Sam, what did you say?"

"I asked what you planned on doing tomorrow."

He frowned, giving his usual confused face. 

"The same thing I do every day?"

Jack bounced in his seat next to him and shouted helpfully, 

_"Try to take over the world!"_

Daniel cast him a momentary glance that asked "What is _wrong_ with you?" as Jack practiced his evil "mua ha ha ha," causing the other tables to momentarily stare at them. 

"Daniel, tomorrow's Free Day. "

His gaze snapped back to Sam. 

"_What? _No it's not."

She smiled, 

"Yeah it is."

Daniel shook his head, 

"No, no, that's not possible. It couldn't have been four weeks already."

"Time flies when you're havin' fun, Daniel," Jack quipped, but Daniel was distractedly counting off days in his head. He concluded, 

"It's only been two weeks. Two and a half, _tops._"

"Daniel, I'm telling you, it's been exactly four weeks--"

"Do you wish to see the record, DanielJackson?"

Daniel nodded and gestured, 

"Yeah, yeah, hand it over here."

Sam looked around cautiously, taking note of all the other tables. Once she was satisfied the other slaves were all busy with their dinner affairs, she pulled the small object from her robes, a simple parchment of animal hide, and handed it over to Daniel. He squinted at the crude marks made on the hide. 

"I have kept faithful track, DanielJackson," Teal'c assured. 

Sure enough, the tallies added up to three weeks and six days. At least, Daniel was pretty sure they did, as they were awfully smudged with dust. He shook his head and handed the 'record' back over. 

"I'll have to take your word for it."

"I've been talking to Galan and Tenron a lot lately and I think I'm making leeway." Sam put the parchment away and leaned over the table eagerly, to speak in a hushed voice, 

"Galan's ninety-percent sure her contacts have access to at least three _hablos _carts. The trouble's getting them smuggled across the River. Most people aren't crazy enough to do it."

"Wait, what happened to plan B? I thought we were still on that."

She looked to her CO, 

"Well, we are. But I think I might be able to get to plan C sooner."

He looked serious a moment, and then nodded slightly. 

"Do what you can, Carter."

"Yes, sir. Daniel, I was going to do some serious wheedling tomorrow while Galan's feeling generous. You want to tag along? Most people find you pretty persuasive."

Daniel raised his brows, opened his mouth to respond, and stopped. Felt trapped. Made a few strange sounds. 

"Daniel?"

"Aahm, yes, well. Me and Jack sort of already had plans."

Shut his mouth and swallowed, suddenly wondering if his face was heating up. Sam looked curious. 

"Oh, really? What're you guys doing?"

"Ahm . . . w- . . . well, sort of a . . . experiment . . ."

Jack suddenly cleared his throat next to him and coughed urgently, sounding a little startled. But Daniel couldn't find any other word at the moment and he needed to stall, needed to _think_ damnit--

_"Ok . . . so we've established this feeling's mutual?"_

_"Yeah. "_

_"Whatever feeling it might be."_

_"Yeah. "_

_Jack sounded shocked, so utterly shocked, as if still hanging in disbelief. He finally asked, _

_"What would this experiment entail?"_

_Daniel easily brought the question back over to Jack, _

_"What would you like it to entail?"_

_"I don't know!" Jack said suddenly, confusion and upset evident in his voice. He waved a frustrated gesture, _

_"Daniel, this is entirely crazy for me. I've never--with another--not even--well, what about _you? _Please tell me you--"_

_"Um.__ Well. No."_

_"No?!"___

_"No."_

_"No," Jack repeated, just to be sure. _

_"You're not alone here, Jack. This is . . ."_

_Daniel looked out over the river that they both hung above, watching the currents vanish down the bend, seeking the right wording. _

_"Uncharted waters for us both."_

_Jack stared at the river along with him, letting that sink in. _

_"Great, " he commented sarcastically. _

_"Which could be a good thing," Daniel observed optimistically. _

_"How?"__ Jack sounded skeptical. _

_Daniel looked down at him and smiled slyly, _

_"Neither one of us will know if we're doing it horribly wrong."_

_Jack's eyes widened momentarily in surprise, and then he laughed, really laughed. With relief. With nervousness. With excitement. _

_If anybody had been passing by, they would have found it mighty strange to look up and see two naked men laughing like maniacs in the canopy. _

"What kind of experiment?"

Daniel blinked, snapping back to reality, horrified to realize he had drifted off in thought and still hadn't answered. 

"Uh . . ."

Jack shouted in a triumphant voice, 

_"Fishing!"___

Of course, this caused Daniel to yelp and leap about ten feet into the air. Jack looked slightly sheepish and mouthed 'sorry' as Daniel, wide-eyed, tried to catch his breath. 

Sam's gaze went from Daniel to Jack. And back again. 

"O-kaaay. Fishing?"

Jack chattered, 

"Yeah, yeah. There's a river-- well, we thought, fresh food supply, possible trading goods, yadda yadda, fashion some sort of makeshift tools, give things a shot, isn't that right, Daniel?"

Daniel paused and stared at Jack, who stared back, waiting for a reply. Wondering if maybe he was serious, and really _did_ mean fishing-- but, wait, no. Slowly, very slowly, his gray brows lifted. Meaningfully. 

"Right. Yes. Fishing."

He looked to Sam. 

"The, uh, river." Shrugged.  "Worth a shot."

She nodded.  "Uh-huh. I get it."

Daniel frowned slightly as it occurred to him Jack's code wasn't the most difficult to decipher. 

"Is that-- all right? I mean, you're still the best person to talk to Galan, matriarchal society, the male of the species seen as subdominant--"

"Well, yeah. She says you're not bad, though. For a guy."

"--already well established friendship you've been developing--"

"--yeah, I know."

"I could, uh, tag along sometime later, if you still think you need help getting through to her."

"That'd be fine."

They lapsed into quiet, the dull murmur of tables' conversations going on around them. Jack's voice came strangely gentle from beside him. 

"We don't have to go fishing if you don't want to."

_The sun was nearing the horizon's edge as their laughter subsided and absorbed into the breezes. There was a slight coolness that was slowly gathering, signaling dusk's approach. _

_"It's getting kind of late already, isn't it?"_

_Daniel nodded. _

_"It is."_

_Daniel could picture the invisible arc in the sky that was the sun's path; after this much time here he had a good sense of what time it was by its position. _

_"Jack . . ."_

_His companion stayed obediently quiet, listening. _

_"Maybe we should . . ."_

_"Forget this whole conversation ever happened?"_

_Daniel blinked, and looked confusedly to Jack. The man was perched nervously, worry-lines creasing his face, and his eyes were flicking about restlessly. As if he was about ready to bolt. _

_"I was going to say we should continue this conversation next time."_

_Jack sunk back down a little. _

_"Oh."_

_The wind set a single green leaf free from the bows, and Jack watched it spiral down to the ground. He started suddenly, words tumbling out, _

_"Daniel I'm not even sure what's going on with me I don't even know what I'm wanting here and I can't even--"_

_"Shhh," Daniel hushed, and Jack stopped immediately, blinking up at him in wonder. _

_"If we're still around next Free Day, we'll come here. We'll both have time to think it over. If we still feel the same . . ."_

_Daniel bobbed his head, as if the sentence didn't need finishing, but then finished anyway. _

_"We can figure out what to do about it."_

_Jack looked hesitant. _

_"Yeah?"___

_Daniel smiled a little and answered decisively, _

_"Yeah."___

_Jack looked down at the river below, a glimpse of a smile on his face. _

_"Ok."_

The sunlight caught the specks of silt in the water, as Daniel gazed meditatively into his cup. He could feel Jack's gaze on him, quietly waiting for a response. For some reason, it felt comforting. To be the object of Jack's attention. 

Gripping the tin cup in his hands, giving it a slight crinkling sound, he looked up and met his observer's eyes. 

"I'd still like to try it."

~~~~~~~~~~


	4. Chapter Four

It was an unlikely alliance, and it always had been so. Daniel didn't want to get into the habit of using clichés, but the term 'polar opposites' came to mind. In every possible aspect, they differed enormously. Well, perhaps not _every_ possible aspect, but certainly the vast majority. The bizarre and unpredictable path of knowing Jack O'Neill was one of the most mystifying and surprising aspects of Daniel's life. Their history of interaction was sporadic, ranging from utter loathing, to indifference, to lightheartedness, all the way to a deep seriousness that involved respect, support and admiration. Above all else, it was unique. This confusing melee that was their friendship had not become any clearer with time. 

He and Jack had explored the vicious realms of their relationship. It was thorny territory, and they had a surprising capacity to do harm to each other. Daniel knew what it was to be an enemy of Jack O'Neill, for he had been there. He knew what it was to have a lighthearted friendship, getting along oddly well and having genuine fun together. It had been, for quite some time, a mockery of their earlier, more serious battles. Symbolic now, and evolved into a strange fondness, an odd connection, an understanding. 

This surface friendship took its dips and dives into genuine conflict, dark and spiteful, but also into genuine connection, respectful and powerfully caring. It was the latter that was perhaps the most interesting, that held the potential for such a true bond. Unfortunately, they did not spend much time learning about this potential for forging such a connection. It was the usual habit to back off whenever such a possibility came too close. There were many times when Daniel would try to convince himself that it simply was not possible to become a closer friend to Jack; they were too different and there was too much about Jack that was disagreeable. After all, he was the gun-happy, ignorant, narrow-minded Colonel, wasn't he? Entirely unwilling to see other's points of view, arrogant, stubborn and impulsive. The literal poster-boy for a military mind. Long spaces of indifference or subtle biting cynicism would pass in their friendship, which were in some ways even worse than when he was screaming bloody murder at Jack. But as infuriating as Jack could be, as hopeless as it looked at times . . . he always managed to make a comeback at the right moment. During those days Daniel wondered why on Earth he ever associated with this man, it wouldn't be long before he'd catch glimpse of something and remember why. Jack would suddenly say or do something incredibly . . . compassionate, or clever, or show a level of perceptiveness or imagination that Daniel found so easy to forget he possessed. Because, after all, Jack worked hard at disguising those things, playing the fool, and the show was still convincing even after all these years. 

Yes, knowing Jack O'Neill had been a strange experience, from the very onset. And as Daniel watched the orange dust kick up in the wake of their footfalls, he marveled over how much stranger it was about to become. 

It's not that things were _that_ different lately. In the months before their mission to this world, they had settled into a fairly peaceful understanding. In fact it was very . . . comfortable, more so than it ever had been before. Daniel attributed it, in part, to the traumatic missions they had been on lately. They had shaken everyone up pretty badly and he knew that tended to bring people closer. The feeling did linger this time, though. Usually once Jack realized that Daniel really was alive and wasn't going to disappear in the next five minutes, he'd back off. This time, though, something new seemed to click in his brain. Maybe that last knock on the head jarred something loose, Daniel wasn't sure. But Jack seemed to have . . . mellowed, no longer felt it necessary to act aloof or annoyed or goofy or act _anything_ around Daniel. Just . . . more natural. More honest. It was nice. Daniel was enjoying it. 

And then came P3X-4Y1. When the team was convicted, stripped of all possessions and rudely dumped into the labor-force, it didn't take them long to realize it was going to be one of _those_ missions. The whoops-hope-you-don't-have-anything-planned-for-the-next-six-months kind of missions. Daniel would be lying if he said it had been easy. Jack responded like he'd been through worse, and chances were pretty good he had. He tried . . . so damn hard to protect his team from the same kind of experience. Which, of course, got Jack into trouble twice as much. That was his usual response to situations like these. Jack wanted to take all the beatings. It was as charmingly noble as it was infuriatingly stupid, all in the same stroke. 

Daniel was able to achieve something new this time around, though-- to convince Jack to share his burdens. It took time, but time happened to be something SG-1 had plenty of on this world. Daniel could still hear the whispered conversations in the dying light of the cooking furnaces, the stench of smoke and sweaty slaves all around, the creak of the hammock-like beds as Daniel leaned forward to get a better look at his friend's grave expression, the tingly-nervous feeling of the Overseers stalking in the background. Jack spoke in a low voice, eyes cast downward, in clipped, vague sentences, with the occasional commentary from Daniel's gentle tone. Daniel learned in bits and pieces of Jack's past, and gradually Jack let him shoulder more and more of the burdens. Gently Daniel pushed him, further and further, quietly urging his friend to trust him. To give more of himself for Daniel to keep and protect. 

The shift of balance was slow, and hardly discernible from day-to-day. It occurred in increments, like the continental drift. Daniel hadn't realized how far it had gone until the first Free Day. They were actually able to relax and drop their guard. Daniel doubted they had ever done this off world before, _ever_. It was more out of necessity than wisdom, he theorized. They were simply too exhausted, mentally and physically, to care anymore. 

Something about that first Free Day changed things, though. It _really_ changed things, and Daniel spent weeks afterwards trying to figure out what exactly it was. He felt different somehow, especially when he caught Jack's eye while they worked. It remained a puzzle. The two of them savored every morsel of anticipation of their next visit to the mythical meeting-ground. It kept them smugly happy while the slaves around them toiled. He figured it was out of a need for emotional survival . . . 

Oh, but it must have been more than just that, just a mutual need to stay sane in insane conditions. It _felt_ like more than that. At least he thought it did. Emotions were tricky things, fickle and not always subject to reason. Could they be trusted? 

It was after the second Free Day that Daniel knew. Not whether his emotions could be trusted, mind you, but exactly what they _were. _It took him by surprise, to say the least. The more he ran it through his mind, though, the more he became convinced it was the only real conclusion he could reach. Oh, he _tried_ to pass it off as the strange influence of strange conditions on a strange world. But he had the unfortunate habit of thinking too much. And P3X-4Y1 gave him plenty of time to think. To make connections, to trace back into his history, to search for signs of this in his past with Jack. To wonder whether what he was feeling was _caused_ by this place, or _revealed_ by it. That was the essential question. 

He never planned on _telling_ Jack all this. But then he had to go and . . . _reciprocate. _That changed everything. 

Honestly, he expected them to be back on Earth by now. Yet here they still were, on this giant dustbowl of a planet, and apparently, it was their day off again. If fate had meant to intervene in this, wouldn't it have done so by now? Not that Daniel really believed in prewritten destiny, but higher powers weren't entirely out of the question. 

Daniel was suddenly brought out of his thoughts when he caught sight of the familiar grove of trees. He swallowed. It seemed they had traveled their carefully chosen maze so quickly this time around. He glanced furtively at Jack, who had been as quietly thoughtful as himself during the trek. 

"Home away from home," Jack murmured wryly. 

It really wasn't until they had gotten down there, and all the way into the trees, and reached the river's edge, that it seemed to hit them that they were really back. The archeologist's gaze swept over the trees, the bushes, the stones, the river, the familiar nooks and crannies, the alien world already a storehouse for a bundle of memories. He turned to Jack, about to make a lame joke attempt just so he could see him groan and roll his eyes, but then he stopped short. 

Jack looked terrified. No, that was an overstatement. But he was definitely scared. Eyes wide, face sort of spooked, rigid stance, glancing about sporadically. 

"Jack," Daniel said. The man looked to him and his expression was almost pained. 

"Jack, you look like you're about to get a Goa'uld implanted. It's just me."

Jack smiled weakly, but didn't look any calmer. 

"I'm sorry, Danny, I'm just . . . uh . . . it's been a long month."

They stood, looking at each other, Daniel concerned, Jack nearly quivering. He was still wrapped in the sienna-dyed cloth, layers upon layers of dirt and gauze, the alien mineral worked deep into his skin. He looked like a stranger to him, a born native to the suffocating clouds of orange fog. But his eyes were still their familiar mahogany, and Daniel knew somewhere in there was the Jack he knew. The Jack he was still getting to know. 

Daniel's face drew into a squint as he scrutinized Jack, straining to bring his flawed vision into perfect focus. 

"What?" Jack asked, sounding a bit unnerved by his staring. 

Jack's hands hung at his sides, trembling slightly-- he really was scared. Daniel took one of Jack's hands in his own, turning it over palm up, and examined the orange paw, roughed and padded like a tiger's. He undid the knot and carefully unwrapped the hand. Jack watched as the younger man slowly pulled the layers back, dust raining down at their feet, revealing his calloused hand, then his limber arm. He let the section of cloth fall to the ground. 

"You're in there," he murmured gently, as if fascinated. Jack smiled crookedly and replied, 

"I hope so anyway."

Daniel leaned forward, and Jack ducked his head obediently as Daniel undid the knot on his sloppy turban. He closed his eyes as the cloth unwound, dust whirling down. He felt the dirt pour off his head, and Daniel gently raise his chin to unwrap his face. Delicately, as if he were incredibly fragile and valuable, he unbound the cloth, pulled it free, letting it drop to the ground. Smoothed down his scruffy hair, which had spiked everywhere. Jack's eyes drifted open, Daniel's gauzed hands and tapered fingers still cupping his face, like he didn't want to drop him. Intense blue gaze searching him. Jack asked slowly, 

"What is it?"

He looked so focused, so fascinated, with every detail of Jack's face; gears in his mind spinning, as if trying to grasp something incredibly important and significant. 

Then, a smile-- small, gradual, and victorious-- spread across Daniel's face, like he had just figured it out. 

"_What?"_ Jack repeated, unable to help smiling along with him. Daniel's thumbs traced the stubble and the smile-lines on Jack's face, like he was reading Braille. Then he released him gently and took his other hand, and murmured, 

"Just taking a closer look." 

Daniel nodded slightly,  

"We should get washed off."

He moved to undo the knot, and Jack's hand gripped his, gently stopping him. Daniel looked at him. 

"Daniel . . . about the whole friendship-thing . . ."

Jack took a breath, obviously searching for the right words. 

"I don't want anything we do to change that."

Daniel smiled a little, squeezing the padded hand in his. 

"Me neither. Somehow, considering what we've been through, I doubt we could ever manage that."

Jack's eyebrows raised, he thought about it, puffed his cheeks, and exhaled, 

"Yeah I guess so."

Daniel nodded in encouragement, and agreed, 

"The foundation's solid."

Jack showed the slightest signs of a smile, then slackened his grip and let Daniel finish untying. He attentively disrobed the rest of Jack with practiced ease, familiar with the complex wraps. He kept his gaze on Jack's face the whole time, and as the last swatch of cloth dropped to Jack's feet, turned to work on his own. Jack just stood there a moment, looking a little dazed. A few moments later, there was a resounding splash. 

The water was enlightening, like stepping into a temple. Daniel sighed as he dropped in, the rush of water purging him from one month's worth of labor. He started to work at scrubbing away the dirt, watching clouds of orange billow into the water and sweep away. 

Jack stood about four yards away, also casually washing off. Anyone who might have happened by would have concluded they were just more laborers relaxing in the River. And that was true. More or less. 

Slowly, deliberately, Daniel moved through the river as he bathed, always keeping Jack in the corner of his eye. Jack did likewise, and they gradually circled each other, gravitating towards and pushing back from one another, like two rivals sizing each other up. 

The reflections played off Jack's face from the river, and he moved so fluidly, so carefully. Daniel matched his steps as he came back round on his third circle, never missing a pace, as they continued their slow stalk. 

They carried on like this, bathing slowly, watching surreptitiously. Already, Jack looked so different. No longer just a calloused, dry, hollow creature of the orange mines. The blue reflected up at him, illuminated him, brought out the softer, more natural tone of his skin and his eyes . . . enriched him and returned the spark that was lost through so many days of harshness. It swept that harshness away in the current and stripped him back down to the core. The creature taking slow laps around the river with him, in an ever-tightening circle, was the same one Daniel recognized during their rarer moments. The glimpses he caught, normally so reserved and camouflaged, were brought back to the surface now, as plain and clear as the blue sky above them. 

In a slowly decaying orbit winding towards a common center, they drifted through the water, watching, bathing, thinking. They started to make brief eye contact; catch, release, catch, release. Jack had that look in his eye whenever he was trying to wind Daniel up, during the endless arguments they'd shared. Daniel had always played along quite well, accepted the dare, and was usually able to outstep the Colonel, beat him at his own game. Jack was pretty good at raising the stakes, however, and coming out ahead. Daniel hadn't known the purpose of their contests-- originally it was out of genuine competition, but had long ago lost that meaning. It wasn't even really a game anymore, for there was no longer a concept of winning. Now it was just their way of interacting, of communication. The purpose had become the common center, the one which they now pulled toward. 

Another lap, and the distance had closed from four yards to two. They had given up on furtive glances by now and were openly watching one another. The water level, which came up over their waists, still registered as bitingly cold, but neither seemed to mind. Jack stared brazenly, that slight curve that was nearly a smile. Daniel mirrored the expression, half serious and half in mockery.  

What ran through his mind was a ribbon, a ribbon of memories that stretched from one end all the way through into this moment. Every shared look, every shared conversation; every shared prison cell, every shared gesture of comfort, every shared terror or pain. Every shared passion or goal, every twist of the knife or embrace of relief. Every time they came a breath closer than usual to friendship, but were too confused or afraid to move further, to step past a threshold that they had always assumed was supposed to remain intact. 

It was an unlikely alliance, and yet there it was. 

The distance closed, their spiral having reached its center, a mere few feet of separation. There Jack stood, and his eyes had changed, no longer challenging and taunting. His expression settled back into entirely neutral, and Daniel recognized the look; the darkened, dilated pupils, the intensity of focus, the predatory gleam. Daniel noted out loud, 

"You look . . . alert . . ."

Alert wasn't precisely the word. He certainly didn't look scared anymore. Of that, he was certain. 

Jack stepped forward, directly into Daniel's personal space, two feet, one. 

Daniel's eyes slipped shut, and his head rocked back. Just, for the moment, concentrating on the feeling of standing inside Jack's personal space. Simply standing there, closer than two people ever would for a casual conversation. Maybe he was crazy, but he could have sworn to physically feel the pressure of Jack's presence on his skin, even though a gap still held them apart. Perhaps it was just the knowing that did it. His skin was alight, a buzzy, tingling sensation like his head felt when oxygen deprived. A loopy conviction crossed his mind, that his skin must be suffocating. He stopped registering the sensation of the water and air entirely. It was all just Jack. It was him and Jack, existing in a vacuum, a frozen snapshot of time created by his mind. Eyes still closed, Daniel reached out slowly, wanting to solidify the moment, to etch it into his memory, to capture what stood so close before him now. 

He gasped and jerked in surprise when Jack moved suddenly, the river _splashing_ as he sloshed away. Daniel snapped his eyes open and searched Jack's face in confusion. The man gave a gruff command, 

"C'mon."

He turned abruptly and started quickly making his way to shore. Daniel looked after him, dazed. 

"What?"

Jack had already made it to shore and called impatiently over his shoulder, 

"_C'mon_."

He disappeared into the trees and Daniel quickly got over his paralysis when he realized he'd lose him very shortly if he didn't move. Running madly through the water, he hollered, 

"C'mon _where?!"_

Reaching the shore in record time, his eyes flitted over the trees in panic, unsure which direction he vanished in. 

"_Dan-_yol," Jack called, as if Daniel was being the unreasonable one. His face settled into a scowl and he jogged after him, calling in the same tone, 

"_Ja-ack!"_

~~~~~~~~~~


	5. Chapter Five

Daniel came flying through the bushes a bit like a startled jackrabbit. His gaze shooting around in distress, up, down, left, right, around. All these damn trees looked the same. 

"_Jaaaaaack!"___

His calls were getting decisively angrier. He shot through the bushes again, trying to follow the rustling sounds, but it was just the goddamn wind-- he didn't _get_ it, he saw Jack go this way, where in the Hell did--

Daniel yelped when one of his legs suddenly snagged on something; he yelled again when that something yanked and he fell backwards into a bush. 

The whip-fast brush of grass slapping past his face, he landed heavily on his back with an _"ooof."_ The wind knocked out of him slightly, the young archeologist gazed dizzily up at the blue sky as a blur moved past his peripheral vision. 

"Stay here, I'll be right back."

"Whuh--huh--yoo--wha?"

Daniel coughed, fought to regain air, tried to sit up, and looked around frantically. He tried speaking again, 

"_What? _Jack? What are you--"

"Just stay there. I'll be back in a sec."

Daniel squinted, making out the fuzzy image of Jack through the bush. He was leaving at a fast-walk. Daniel found his voice. 

"Jack! Would you just stop a minute? You expect me to just sit here naked in some bush waiting for you?"

Jack halted, hesitated. 

"You're right. I'm sorry, Danny."

He came back towards him and tossed something. A large alien leaf drifted to the floor in front of Daniel. 

"Wear that. I'll be right back."

The man turned and took off fast this time; Daniel had stood and was in mid-holler when he stopped, realizing Jack wasn't going to listen. He let the rest of his breath out in a big sigh. 

All right, fine. So Jack had left him here. Where the Hell was he? 

Daniel turned his attention to that question for the first time. It actually didn't seem to be a bush so much as it was a patch of grass, a pale primrose in color, more than shoulder-tall, with long reed-like stems. They were bending in the breeze and they sort of reminded him of cattails. 

Daniel stepped forward and frowned in concentration. He reached out and swept back the grass like he was parting a curtain. The patch of grass was pretty deep and large. He let go of the curtain and it sprung back into place. The odd thing was he was standing in a flat spot in the center. The grass had been flattened into the ground in a neat oval-shape, a few feet long. He walked along the perimeter, the grass smooth and springy under his feet, and realized Jack must have done it. He looked up to where Jack had vanished from, an expression of disbelief. 

"Wait a second. He didn't."

He _did_. No, maybe Daniel was interpreting this wrong. But-- what else could it be? 

"Jack, you're a lunatic," Daniel said out loud, shaking his head, uncertain what to think. For all the world it looked like Jack had built a lovenest. 

Daniel sat down, deciding to go along with things for now. Jack had better be back soon, though. 

The golden grass swayed hypnotically around Daniel, making a gentle swishing sound. He let out a sigh. The grass was smooth beneath him, the forest utterly silent save for the breeze. Daniel glanced up at the oval patch of blue, the only thing he could see beyond the rippling grass. He had to admit, being buried in here did feel pretty . . . private. Secluded. Secret. 

Which was probably an illusion, now that he thought about it. Daniel eyed the single oak leaf on the ground contemplativly. 

When Jack returned, Daniel couldn't say for certain. It was somewhere between the realm of 'Did he really leave?' and 'What's taking him so long?'

A swath of grass was pulled back and Jack's head and upper-body poked into view. Carefully juggling his load, he set down pomegranates with loving care, one by one, until five had rolled into the cubbyhole. A flat river stone followed and also was carefully set down. Only then, after he had leaned back and let most of the grass close back around him, did Jack meet Daniel's eyes. He seemed to be trying to gauge his mood. Cautiously, as if evaluating a risky situation. 

"Hi," he greeted, belaying the uncertainty in his tone. 

"Hi," Daniel echoed, in sort of a questioning manner. 

"I, uh, did a little reconnaissance earlier. Before we left last time. I found this spot . . ."

Jack trailed off. Daniel shifted from where he was sitting, uncomfortably trying for a position that didn't make him feel so prone. That leaf didn't provide for a lot of coverage. 

"I see you took my advice there," Jack noted, and Daniel could hear the humor underlying his tone. He frowned and messed with the precariously tied grass-stem around his waist. 

"I see you brought a picnic," Daniel shot back, sounding slightly irritated. 

"Uhm, yeah . . ." Jack ran a quick hand through his hair. 

"I sort of had a thing planned. Out in my mind. I've, uh, been thinking about this whole thing a lot, actually."

"You have?" Daniel looked at him with a measure of skepticism. 

"You sure didn't act like it."

"I can be cohort when I want to be," Jack replied. Daniel just looked at him. Jack shifted his stance, running a hand through his hair again, 

"Look, the truth is, I've been going over this nearly every waking and sleeping moment since last time, and I had it mapped down to the last detail. Repeatedly. With several possible versions. But now . . ."

He gnawed distractedly on his tongue in thought, gazing off into space. Daniel finished, 

"The idea of permanently altering the nature of our relationship is a little off-putting."

Jack blinked. Nodded slightly. 

"Yeah, among other things."

Daniel prompted, 

"What other things?"

Jack made a vague gesture. 

"You know."

Daniel didn't respond, just stared. Jack relinquished, 

"Having basically no idea what I'm doing. The big rock we're going back to work on tomorrow. Carter possibly coming up with an even crazier plan. The, ah . . . yeah. " 

Another vague gesture.  "That stuff."

"True," Daniel agreed. 

They stood. The breeze made the grass bend in waves. The perfect quiet, the warm, clean, solitary grass, the patch of blue sky. Jack remained behind a veil of grass, refusing to cross into the nest he had created. They watched each other, as if simply trapped, unable to back out but unable to go further. 

"Jack."

"Yeah?"

"We can't stay here all day like this."

"I know."

 The peacefulness of the area was a strange mockery of the situation. They were caught in a standstill. 

"You said you had something in mind."

Jack refused to even nod, not looking all that ready to discuss it. In fact he was starting to look like he could stay there until the end of time. 

"I'm curious to hear your theory. "

Jack stood. 

"I had a few ideas myself."

Still, he stood. 

"There isn't any reason to worry, Jack. It's just me."

And stood. 

Daniel fell quiet. He asked quietly, 

"Jack?"

And stood. 

_"JACK! Get your ass in here already, you idiot!"_

Jack blinked in surprise at Daniel's outburst. And obeyed. He meekly stepped into the nest, grass parting to release him and close up behind him like the red sea. He was festooned with his own proud, strategically placed alien leaf. Daniel, still sitting on the floor, just looked up at him. 

"Thank you," he said politely. They were quiet for a while. 

"Um, and sorry about the idiot-thing. I didn't mean it."

Jack replied in a soft, mellow tone, 

"No. You were right. I am an idiot."

Jack stepped forward a pace or two, hovering. Daniel observed, 

"Wow. That's a first."

"Being an idiot?"

"Admitting it."

Jack smiled slightly. So did Daniel. Jack had drawn closer, so slowly Daniel had hardly even noticed it. He had picked up a fruit and was shifting it nervously about in his hands. 

"When I left I half-expected you to ditch."

Daniel bit a lower lip. 

"So did I, actually."

Closer. Daniel was reminded of all the times Jack seemed to crowd him, all the times he had taken great liberties with his personal space, pawing him, slapping his back, ruffling his hair, hanging on his shoulder. It had annoyed him and yet he never told him to stop. To back off. 

"We probably make for a funny looking pair right now, huh? Adam and Adam," Jack commented, looking to their ridiculous garments with a wry smile. 

"Well if Sam walked in now I'm pretty sure she'd die laughing," Daniel agreed. 

Jack bent down to his knees and picked up the river stone lying there. He held the pomegranate in one hand, the stone in the other. He looked to Daniel. Daniel just looked back. Jack slid the sharp edge of the rock into the fruit and turned; it neatly halved the fruit. He set the rock aside. He held one half of the pomegranate, gazed at its bright red interior a moment. His eyes came up and swept briefly over Daniel's body, as if drawing a quick mental map. Then he brought his gaze to meet Daniel's. His brows raised a mere micromillimeter. Daniel understood the look. He could practically hear Jack's voice in his head. _May I? _

Dense as a fence-post, but usually means well; clever but ruthless; self-destructive but compassionate towards others; pessimistic but straightforward; honest but a flat-out smart-ass; insecure but romantic; lonely but antisocial; conceited and competitive; protective and loyal. The utter frustration of knowing Jack was trying to reconcile countradictions that were irreconcilable. This had confounded Daniel for years. His feelings towards him had always been mixed, so he never found particular reason to give pause and think anything unusual of them; nothing beyond the usual strangeness, that was. He adjusted to the conflicting feelings and thoughts when he was around him. It was simply something he accepted. And he never, never considered during all of that, that maybe his feelings flowed in a non-platonic vein. There just was never any reason for him to think so. When he did look back, though-- looked at Jack and he in a different light, through an entirely new leans-- something strange occurred. All that frustration, all those infuriating countradictions, all his struggles and obsessions. All those moments so complex and full of mixed meaning and mood. Everything seemed to finally pull together in a logical sort of way. Finding out the more significant sides to Jack had completed the picture, like the way Daniel pieced together the story of an ancient civilization. That bigger picture was that . . . Jack was . . . insatiably _Jack. _There was order to his chaos, as he made sense on his own odd terms. And that sense was incredibly, incredibly . . . compelling. 

Why, exactly? That was something Daniel could not answer. Because in the end, the whole was simply greater than the sum of its parts. And what it added up to was so irresistibly, irrevocably appealing that he felt entirely helpless to deny it. Like it or not, he had developed a taste for Jack. At least, Daniel was_ fairly_ certain of these conclusions. 

Daniel nodded for the go-ahead. Jack accepted this and moved to studiously daub his fingers in the fruit-half, like a painter carefully taking up paint from his palate. Daniel watched as he reached over, and with his thumb, drew a neat line of juice down Daniel's nose. Daniel frowned at Jack, wrinkling his nose; Jack had an adoring grin on his face. 

"Sorry. I had to get that out of the way first."

"You have an alarming fixation with my nose, don't you?"

"Mm-hmm," Jack murmured distractedly, daubing up more pomegranate juice. Daniel was still sitting in a half-leaned back manner, and Jack shifted a bit closer on his knees. He took one of Daniel's hands-- which was a bit awkward for Daniel's position, and he had to shift to keep his balance-- and brought it up close palm-side up, examining it closely. 

"Gonna read my fortune?" Daniel teased. 

"They say one of the most telling things about a person is their hands," Jack mused, as if off in his own world. He pressed his index finger into the center crease of Daniel's hand. Then drew a colorful flame across his palm's lifeline. 

"What do mine tell you?" Daniel asked, sounding half curious, half nervous. 

"Bitter times have marked calluses into you," Jack murmured in a darkened tone, sketching red over his calluses. 

"But what lies beneath has not changed."

The crease below his calluses was traced, then the whorl framing his thumb. 

"Still pliable, veins still deep under the skin. Many days spent writing and recording, scholarly work, not blunt tools."

Then he traced lines up each of his fingers, barely brushing the skin as he did so, voice dropping to a whisper, 

"Long, tapered fingers. Artist's hands. Meant for creation, for crafting delicate details, shaping masterpieces . . ."

Daniel shivered as Jack drew the last line, feeling odd to be the object of Jack's undivided attention. Pausing only to daub up more paint, Jack focused on tracing the veins along his pulse point, delicate sweeps of color, as if every stroke mattered. Daniel marveled at the patience Jack seemed to be displaying, for whatever it was that captured his interest so intently. 

Then the man dipped his head slowly, looking like an animal stooping to take a drink. He was examining his pulse point so intently, so closely-- slowly he inhaled, taking in the scent of the juice and flesh, the tip of his nose nuzzling the skin just slightly. His eyes drifted shut and he brought the wrist to his lips, feather-soft, shockingly gentle. His tongue traced the lines the pomogranate juice just had. His expression was serene and satisfied, like evaluating a fine wine. Slowly he let Daniel's hand back down, eyes drifting back open, and finding their way back to the archeologist's line of sight. Daniel gazed back in rapt wonder, looking positively hypnotized. 

"I'll take your silence to be a good thing," Jack said, his voice a distant rumble of nonsense to Daniel's mind. All that registered was the mahogany eyes, so dark, so visceral, so new. Jack had gotten more juice from his fruit-half and began his journey down Daniel's arm, painting colorful patterns of sweeping red lines along his skin. This wasn't what he had expected at all and Daniel felt his brows scrunch into their shape of wonder, the shape they took when he was marveling over some expansive mystery he _knew_ was enormously significant but he was only still grasping the tip of the iceberg. 

That tip, that immerging understanding, was that he was sensitized to Jack. That developed taste was no illusion. It was there, like an unknown capacity, a freshly discovered faculty of Daniel's mind. He felt everything at once, a complex symphony suddenly so loud and real and irreversible. His skin was buzzing, the feather-soft grass beneath him, the warm-cool breeze swaying their cradle, whispering its mantra, the man leaning over him, smelling of clean gray riversand and dry alien brush, pomogranate and excited musk. His hair had dried and now stuck wildly in all directions, a silver framing for his distinguished face. Daniel had never realized . . . never _seen _. . . God, why hadn't he ever seen? 

Every subtle stroke Jack took, grazing flesh with flesh, painting in cool dragon-crimson, registered and reverberated. It felt like a thousand echoes leapt across his skin at each contact. Jack would sample his work every now and then, inhale its scent, marvel at the taste of sweet skin and dark juice. He seemed in no hurry, working down one arm and then the next, than taking each leg in turn. He started at the Achille's heel and ended somewhere along the inner thigh, crafting elaborate swirls that almost looked reminiscent of some ancient languages he had translated. The warm color felt like it was melding with his skin, dissolving with his bloodstream. He tried to move-- he really did at first. To speak, to say or do something. Anything. But the action of registering sensation was alone too great a task. 

"Lean back."

At the time Daniel's mind didn't seem concerned with processing sound of any sort, but he saw the words as they formed on Jack's lips. He didn't move at first, but gradually recognized the gentle tug on his arms, as Jack prodded for him to relax. He did and let Jack guide him down, leaning him back further into the primrose grass. Before long his vision was completely filled with the oval-shaped patch of blue sky, the borders of grass rippling like breath. 

He felt Jack push his knees down gently, and the man start to shift forward. His eyes widened and the breath caught in his chest as he felt Jack's bare thighs slide along his. The man slid further into him and Daniel's knees came up automatically. It was only when he realized his legs were now pressing into Jack's firm buttocks that he finally started wondering what it was Jack was doing. He blinked as the man's face came into view, Jack's body pressing invasively against his own-- now eye-to-eye, he realized the older man was straddling him, hands braced against the grassmat on either side of Daniel's shoulders. 

"It's time to do your face," Jack explained in a low voice. Well. That sounded rational enough. Granted, it probably wasn't absolutely necessary to straddle him in order to get to his face, but Daniel was having a hard time pointing that out. 

_This should feel weird, _Daniel thought, as Jack produced a fruit half and started to daub up some color. Jack was sitting on top of him buck-naked, their pelvises more or less sandwiched together-- he could feel Jack's makeshift loincloth pressed into his upper thigh-- and yet, it didn't feel as weird as it should have. Jack looked upon him from the vantage point of a cat gazing curiously at its catch. He handily set the fruit-palette on Daniel's chest and began to draw curving arches across his cheek. 

Jack paid homage to each of Daniel's features, never neglecting a single aspect. The perfect half-moons of his brows, the bridge of his endearing nose, the lobes of his ears, everything was tipped in dark maroon and savored. Jack drew an especially dark line along the main artery of Daniel's neck. Then his eyes flitted over to seek Daniel's. That carnivorous expression was back, but he was waiting for a sign of approval from him. It was charmingly polite, but Daniel hardly saw the point, as he felt they were pretty much past the realm of platonic by now. 

Jack got the message, and sunk to his elbows, sliding up Daniel just a little bit further, taking the term 'straddle' to a whole new level. He buried his face in Daniel's jugular, which would have been amusing if Daniel wasn't so distracted from the sheer shock of the sensation. Jack lapped at the juice and followed the trail higher and higher, until he met the feather-soft flesh behind Daniel's ear, nuzzling and making murbling sounds. Daniel hissed, perhaps his first utterance in what felt like hours, and a full-body jerk seized his body in gut reaction. 

  
Jack drew up partially, so that he was looking directly down into Daniel's face. Daniel felt overwhelmed, not sure how they'd gotten to where they currently were; the tightened way Jack's legs hugged him, his own legs digging into the man's buttocks, the shared breath of their neared faces. The half of pomogranate was recklessly smashed between their chests by now, and their perfect alignment had them literally rubbing up against their rapidly growing erections. 

Daniel's gazed dropped down, as he heard the sound of blood rushing past his ears and his vision spot over with purple and orange. He noticed that the trailing lines of red juice had pressed against Jack's body to stamp a perfect copy onto him. Now both of them had the bright-red lines snaking up and around their bodies. 

Daniel realized his head had lolled over a bit as he dazedly watched the orange-and-purple dots, and forced his head back up, an enormously difficult task for some reason. His face met with the smell of river and fruit, sand and musk. 

"Jack," Daniel said, like he was only now discovering the meaning of that word. Oh, how he was beginning to understand now. 

"Hmm?" Jack murmured, his voice comfortably lazy. His nose nudged Daniel's. 

"What's this mean about us?"

Jack took a moment to reply, thoughtfully nuzzling Daniel's nose in the meantime. He came forward just a bit, rubbing his cheek against Daniel's like a cat, and murmured into his ear;

"Quite frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

Daniel exhaled in soundless laughter, and Jack continued to wander along his face, nuzzling, nibbling, pecking, tasting. Eventually he made his way over to Daniel's mouth to try some experimental pecks. It wasn't horrible, so he continued. Daniel started to respond. Gently at first, almost as if they weren't really serious about it. But then they slowed, deepened. It did feel a bit strange at first. After all, it was . . . different. But as Daniel sunk deeper and deeper, that strangeness started to fade. He found something new in its place. 

They parted for breath at the same time, and Daniel sought out Jack's eyes. He wanted to know--  he _had_ to know-- if Jack was on the same page. 

The man on top of him looked like a mirror's reflection to Daniel. Identical in so many ways yet opposite too. Pomogranate juice stained both their faces like exotic face paint. And he knew that Jack shared the sentiment that he was feeling. 

"Hi, Jack," Daniel whispered, so quietly it was barely audible. 

"Hi, Daniel," Jack murmured back. Then that little half-smile started to grace his face. Daniel leaned forward and kissed Jack full-on. 

It was time to start exploring the delightfully acquired taste of Jack O'Neill. 

~~~~~~~~~~


	6. Chapter Six

The steel of the chair was sleek and cold.  He sat with his head in his hands, elbows propped against the wooden table, gazing at its surface. So glossy and smooth, so perfectly smooth. He remembered Galileo's manner of explaining friction; if this table's surface were perfectly smooth, a ball would roll on ad infinitum . . .

The air around him was stale and sterile. So clean and void of the dust he had grown accustomed to breathing. So empty, so quiet. The slate-grey walls that encased the small room felt really strange to him. He was reminded of coming back to Earth after his time spent on Abydos. He had a similar reaction, an anxious, subtle sense of claustrophobia, like a weight slowly pressing down on his chest all day long. The halls were much too narrow, the ceilings much too low, the floors much too cold. For months afterwards he had worn turtleneck sweaters and jackets, been far too easily startled when people entered his office. In the desert, sneaking up on a person was nearly impossible. 

Everything was so crisp and focused now. He manipulated a pencil in his hands on the table in front of him, rolling it back and forth across the file-folder. Fascinated with the details of the pencil, how he could make out the numbers printed on the wood. How he could see again. 

The debriefing was slow and dull. He sat in a daze through most of it, and by the looks on his team-member's faces, so did they. The General was fairly sympathetic to this fact; in fact, the normally reserved man could hardly contain his joy and relief at finally getting his long-lost flag-team back home. He was making the debriefing procedures as painless and quick as possible. 

Daniel shivered and slumped down further in his chair, sinking into the hard table. His clean clothes felt stiff and starchy and he felt oddly naked with the fresh short haircut and shave. It was funny in some ways. So many days on that planet, he had fantasized about what he'd do when he got home. About the long, hot showers and going out for steak and beer and baked potatoes, about spending his week off in a bathrobe in bed catching up on all the academic articles while drinking coffee and eating buttery croissants, the radio in the background and the phone off the hook. 

All he wanted to do right now was go home and sleep for about a month. 

But he had to get through this debriefing first. Armory, infirmary, showers, debriefing. The post-mission procedure they followed was so ingrained he could have sleepwalked through the entire thing. Of course, this one was slightly different. Whenever SG-1 had some or all of its members stranded on a planet for more than a week, they could expect at least a week or two of downtime. Recovery was important. Needed to be at their peak efficiency to do their job, after all. 

Recovery. Daniel blinked up at the room around them, at the people sitting around the table. Was that what this was? Recovery? That didn't seem like the right word. After an experience like that, you couldn't simply bounce back. Everything alters you. Everything affects you. You don't simply recover, like people expect you to. The status quo seemed highly overrated. 

People aren't supposed to maintain a status quo. That would be inhuman. 

He could tell the General was nearing the end of the debriefing by the way he kept nodding curtly. He had received brief oral reports from each of them but mercifully left most of it up to the written. Currently he was nodding curtly at the Colonel, who was quickly surmising their final days on the planet, just before the rescue party had arrived. 

The Colonel. It was funny, he hadn't thought of Jack in terms of his rank for quite some time now, and suddenly he was again. The Colonel had gradually faded away on that planet. Now both he and Carter-- yes, Carter, not Sam-- were in their BDUs, scrubbed clean and sitting upright in an attentive posture, attempting to look as professional and recovered as possible. Attempting to act like not too much had changed, like they were still ready to get back to work soon. Teal'c sat in his usual solemn-looking manner, in contrast to the two overeager and clearly anxious Airforce members. It was as if nothing really phased Teal'c, because to be entirely honest Daniel could see no external signs that the Jaffa had differed in any way since the last time they all sat around this table. Of course, if there was somebody who had mastered the art of illusion, it had to be Teal'c. He did not show his true face very often, preferring to live his world internally. 

Daniel was perhaps the most open of anyone at that table at the time. Oh, he wore the green fatigues with the SGC insignia, the plain black boots, all official and snappy looking. But he sat slumped in his seat and made no show to try and hide it. His crumpled expression behind his glasses belayed his exhaustion and bleary overwhelm. A mug of coffee sat untouched not far from his file-folder, growing cold. He hadn't the stomach for it yet. 

"Dr. Jackson?"

Daniel blinked a few times, then glanced up with a curious expression. 

"Hm? _Oh. _Yes?"

He straightened up in his chair a little, as the General addressed him. It had taken him a moment to connect _Jackson_ in his brain as referring to himself. 

"You going to need someone to take you home?"

Daniel blinked again, nonplussed. Hammond had a slightly sympathetic smile, that concerned look in his eye. 

"Oh, uh. No, no sir, I'm-- I'll be fine. Just a little tired, need to sleep it off."

Hammond nodded and accepted this. 

"I'm sure you're all eager for your time off, so I'll leave you to it. I've extended the deadlines on your written reports."

"Thank you sir," the Airforce duo echoed, and Hammond nodded to acknowledge them before rising. 

Some other formalities were exchanged and people starting getting up-- Daniel wasn't paying much attention, too lost in thought. He kept gazing at the serial number on his file-folder; P3X-4Y1, printed in dark, bold print. 

_Welcome home, Dr. Jackson. _

This was his home, yes, in many ways. He spent a great deal of his life here within the gray walls of the SGC buried beneath this mountain. Unlocking secrets of past and alien cultures in his lab, traveling to other worlds, fighting a silent war, running along the brink of science . . . and always, always coming back to this room, this office. To report, to discuss, to ponder issues that affected the fates of hundreds of other worlds, not to mention the lives of every single person on their own planet. 

Many serious conversations were had in this room, many serious decisions. Everything from the mundane exploration of uninhabited worlds all the way to what seemed at the time the inevitable armageddon of their planet. Daniel remembered-- he recalled every last detail, the mornings spent slumped over in his chair with a mug of coffee attached to his hands, pouring over reports, listening to tiresome yet necessary diplomacy, presenting his own slides and speeches as a plea for whatever he wanted to do at the time. 

He was home, all right. And the mission to P3X-4Y1 was reduced to that serial number and the neat, organized, typed-up mission reports that his file-folder would contain. Another folder to add to the cabinet, catalogued along with all the others. Shuffled away to work on the next project, the next world. 

"Hey."

Daniel broke from his musings in surprise. Everyone had left the room without him even realizing;  the chairs pushed in and the other paperwork put away, most of the lights flicked out. A figure hovered in the doorway, hardly more than a shadowy silhouette. 

"Oh, uh, sorry. Kinda drifted off there," Daniel muttered, getting up and gathering his papers. The Colonel came back into the room and stood on the opposite side of the table from Daniel. 

"You sure about not needing a ride home?" he asked in a lighthearted tone. 

Daniel tapped his papers on the edge of the table to straighten them up. 

"No, I'm fine. It's, uh-- it just takes some getting used to, being back home. I'm gonna go home and catch up on the articles I'm sure have stacked a mile high."

The Colonel smiled at that, leaning against the table. 

"Yeah, that sounds about right. Whatever floats your boat, huh?"

Daniel pushed the chair in, and finally looked up to meet his eyes. 

"Right."

Jack looked at ease in his uniform, like it gave him something reassuring. It took away his vulnerability, protected him from uncertainties. He fell back into step so quickly and effortlessly, the frigid environment of the SGC comforting, familiar territory. It was to him, at least. To Daniel it would always be a little displaced feeling. It simply wasn't his element. 

"So, uh, guess I'll see you around, huh? Try not to get lost in your articles."

Daniel set the organized folder back down on the table, gripping the edge of the table in his hands, looking across at Jack. 

"I guess. Sam was talking about us all going out and doing something this weekend . . ."

"Yeah."

The single light left on in the room burned directly above Jack's head. It put out a pale florescent glow. Jack had seriously chopped his hair back to the point it was practically a buzz. He probably couldn't get all the orange dirt out of it no matter how many times he washed it; Daniel could relate. 

Was this it? Were they going to just leave on this note? Jack hovered at his side of the table, as did Daniel. It felt so easy to push this away. 

_"What about that one?"_

_"What one?"_

_The insects sounded like the dull roar of an ocean all around them, the grass rippling like waves, as they remained tucked deep into their island. _

_"That long one that makes a straight line."_

_Daniel traced the path with his hand, like drawing in a connect-the-dots. _

_"Hmm."__ Jack murmured, sounding utterly lost in thought. After a few minutes he decreed, _

_"It almost looks like Draco from back home."_

_"Draco had a head."_

_"He has one. See? That little triangle at the end."_

_"What? Where?"_

_"Right there."___

_Daniel leaned in further, pressing his chin into Jack's shoulder so he could align his eye of sight perfectly with where Jack was pointing. _

_"Pretty tiny triangle."___

_"Yeah well, who said Draco has a big head? They say the dinosaurs had brains the size of walnuts, right?"_

_Daniel chuckled a little. _

_"Good point."_

_It was so different out here then back at communal camp. Or anywhere, for that matter. Daniel felt a thousand miles away from everything. The alien sky might have fooled them during the day, but at night it was clear they weren't on Earth. All the familiar constellations were gone, new planets they didn't know the names of had taken old planet's places. The only recognizable sight was the thick band of Milky Way across the sky, around where the Zodiac path normally would have been. Same galaxy, whole different neighborhood. _

_"And the way they're positioned, you can see constellation Space-Monkey is fending him off with his mighty bannana-gun--"_

_Daniel shoved at Jack's shoulder, sounding annoyed. _

_"I already told you, there's no monkey up there, Jack."_

_"Yes there is! Danny, if that isn't a monkey up there with wings, I'm Maybourne's uncle."_

_"I still say you're just seeing things," Daniel grumbled. Jack poked him back, _

_"Sure. And who's the one with the missing glasses here? That'd be you."_

_"I can see them fine," Daniel protested, looking up at the sky. Ok, that was a bit of a lie. The pricks of light were definitely on the fuzzy side. But he could still _see_ them, damnit. _

_"C'mon, Daniel, you already got to name, like, five planets."_

_"Four."_

_"Whatever."_

_"All right.__ I just don't see how the monkey's going to fit into our mythology."_

_"Daniel, relax. Every story can be improved with the addition of a monkey. You should know that."_

_Daniel smiled, tilting his head to lean against Jack's shoulder. _

_"You're sort of a dork, you know."_

_"Yeah, kettle.__ You should talk."_

_Some sort of bugs with long, silvery wings were zipping across their patch of sky, and they were mesmerizing Daniel. The wind shifted, the towering grass rippled like water, and Daniel mused over how this sky had more red stars than Earth did. A swath of the soft grass pulled over them like a quilt,  the two men  entangled in a way that made Daniel forget whose limbs belonged to whom. At the time, it entirely didn't matter. _

"It is kind of weird, being back again. After . . . everything," Jack commented, saying the word 'everything' in a way that somehow communicated how deeply the past four months had impacted them. 

"I know," Daniel agreed,  

"It's pretty big. A lot to digest."

Jack nodded,  "Exactly."

They fell quiet and could hear the electronic hum of the building. Jack buried his hands in his coat pockets, entranced with a bit of fuzz on the floor. Daniel fiddled with the edge of the file-folder. He knew he should say something, but for the life of him, he didn't know what. What was there possibly to say? 

Jack made a nondescript noise, and Daniel glanced up. 

"I was thinking of taking off to the lake after the big team get-together. Thought maybe the fresh air and quiet might help clear my head."

Daniel picked the folder back up, shifted his stance a little, and answered distractedly, 

"Yeah, sure. Sounds like a good idea."

Jack nodded. 

"Yep. It's always worked for me in the past, at least."

Why was he still here? Daniel was waiting for Jack to make some motion to leave-- maybe Jack was doing likewise for him. Daniel's eyes flicked to the door, to the gray halls of the SGC, random airmen filing by. 

"I, uh-- I was gonna ask Carter to come, but I think I have a pretty good idea what her answer would be," Jack was saying, grinning. 

Daniel sighed, finding his patience worn thin with the small-talk, and leaned into the table, looking Jack in the eyes. 

"Jack, are you done? Because if we're gonna act all normal right now, I'd like to get home and get some reading done in the meantime."

Jack looked at him with an unreadable expression. Damn, even after all these years Daniel couldn't always read this man. He was a master at masquerading. He replied in a level tone, 

"Yeah. Sure, Danny. Sorry."

Jack turned to go, took a few paces, turned back slightly--

"See you around."

And then turned to leave. Daniel blinked, trying to interpret Jack's response, the little wheels in his head spinning. 

"W-wait. Hold on, Jack."

The older man paused at the door frame, hesitated, and reluctantly turned around. 

"What?"

"Did you--uh. Were you . . ." Daniel gestured, as if that helped to explain. Jack leaned against the door frame and rose his brows impatiently. 

"Spit it out, Daniel."

Daniel sounded mildly perturbed as he asked, 

"Were you gonna ask me to go fishing with you?"

Jack gazed back still with that unreadable face, and for an awful moment Daniel thought he'd guessed wrong. 

"Maybe I was getting around to that," Jack finally answered, soundly slightly irate himself. 

Daniel exhaled,  "Oh."

Back in the doorway, Jack was little more than a backlit silhouette, his features hardly discernible. Daniel realized he was holding the folder tight against his chest in a nervous manner. 

"I didn't wanna-- well, it was going to sound--"

Jack made his own vague gesture. 

"It's a delicate situation," he summarized, dropping his hands back to his sides. 

"I won't argue with that."

Daniel pressed the folder closer to him, feeling a familiar post-desert-planet chill. The world looked oddly clear and naked with his glasses; he hadn't realized how accustomed he had grown to the foggy, fuzziness of the planet.

"So call me when you think about it, lemme know if you'd want to tag along," Jack said in an easy tone, hovering in the threshold, about ready to take off.

"Jack?"

"Hm?" He took a slight half-step forward. Daniel stepped forward a bit as well, so Jack's features finally became clear.

"Thanks."

Jack's eyes flicked around the hall behind him, about the empty room, and back to Daniel, confused.

"For what?"

Daniel hesitated; he wasn't exactly sure for what. 

"For . . . uh . . ."

The archeologist gave a bit of a self-conscious smile.

"For letting me learn more about you, I guess."

The Colonel was neutral at first. Then the corners of his mouth twitched. His eyes searched Daniel's.

"Daniel, that's . . ." 

Words failed him. Helplessly, Jack's smile increased.

"I've never heard anyone say something like that to me before."

Daniel searched him cautiously.

"That's a, a good thing, though, right?"

Jack was openly grinning by now. He put a hand on Daniel's shoulder.

"Yeah, Danny. Definitely a good thing."

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

El finido.

Feedback goes to: jaybee_bug@yahoo.com


	7. Addendum

**A/N:** I wrote this poem in a sudden burst of inspiration while in the middle of my story, but I had nowhere in particular I could use it. I'm so fond of it, though, and it's directly related to this story, so I'm posting it as an addendum. It's supposed to be Jack's POV.

my eden

_you're my shade_

_my cool release_

_my sweet escape from the sun_

_you're my energy_

_returned to me_

_when I'd thought it all turned to dust_

_you're my oasis in a sea of sand_

_the calm before the storm_

_you're my forbidden fruit_

_too ripe to let spoil_

_the smooth to wash the rough away_

_you're my eden_

_you take me home_

_you give me reason_

_you're my eden_


End file.
